Maori Understandings of the Environment

Bother. The footnotes disappeared when pasted into the website. For a PDF version, complete with references please click HERE

​There is a Western tendency to paint indigenous cultures with a rosy idealism. Rogers et.al. warn against “the propensity to romanticize indigenous knowledge, by falsely assuming that these belief systems contain long lost wisdoms universal to all peoples of all cultures.” Maori push back at Pakeha attempts to assimilate or integrate Maori concepts without real power sharing. The challenge for Pakeha environmentalists is to build genuine relationships of partnership and trust with Maori; “Trust and mutual respect, along with the humility that comes from recognizing and owning up to systemic wrongdoing are necessary if Aboriginal peoples and proponents of eco-theology are to be able to strive in accord.”

Can we highly value Maori insights into this land of Aotearoa while at the same time holding with confidence and passion our own goals, as Pakeha, for ecology? I would love to think that there is far more common ground between Maori and Pakeha conservationists than there are differences. However, I want to listen to Maori pain and not gloss over it. I accept that there is much to a Maori world-view that I cannot understand, and indeed have no right to understand. I value friendships with Maori and working on dynamic, honest partnership. I am committed to not perpetuating the colonial attitudes, patronising policies and unjust laws that have diminished both Maori and the wellbeing of this land.

Rongo: Harmony

Te Maungarongo (mau meaning to bring or create, rongo meaning peace) means “the creation of peace, the unification of people in harmony. With this name, the close bond between Maori tradition and Christian faith is embodied.” A respectful conversation between Maori and Christian understandings of the natural environment leans into this harmony and unity, but that is not the whole story. It can feel like wishful thinking or a white-wash over deep-seated differences. Away from that beautiful marae and its gentle waves, bird song and fern fronds, the rongo feels more fragile.

As I seek a deeper understanding of Maori concepts and interconnections, I relinquish my desire for ‘unification’. I genuinely believe, with the vision of Te Maungarongo, that there is harmony with the Christian faith, and I strongly hope for closer partnership between Maori and Pakeha on caring for our land together. I do not aim for syncrenism, and I do not want ‘pretend agreement’.

Perhaps a musical metaphor may help. If Maori and Christian convictions are tunes, when do they come together in harmony and when do they clash? The development of an authentic Kiwi eco-theology needs all the notes to sound with their own clarity and beauty. Where there are harmonies may they resonate true and sweet. Where there is dischord, let’s be honest about it, give space for the other’s truth and be energised by the tension. Perhaps subtle notes will emerge, vibrations and echoes that surprise and refresh, or catch the ear off-guard.

The sections that follow explore Maori words central to the human-nature relationship. I seek to understand and explain each Maori concept as best I can, and to engage it in theological reflection. This draws on biblical and faith tradition resources, while continuing to be highly personal and subjective.

Mauri: Life

Mauri is the fusion that makes it possible for everything to exist, by holding the physical and meta-physical elements of a being or thing together in unison. When actions impact negatively upon the mauri of something, this essential bond is weakened, and can potentially result in the separation of the physical and meta-physical elements, resulting in death or the loss of capacity to support life.

Paul writes of Christ that “in him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:17). This is similar to the Maori concept of mauri as the “bonding element that holds the fabric of the universe together.” Paul writes several times of the resurrected Christ being the Spirit of Life (e.g. 1 Corinthians 15:45). Maori thinking also describes a life-giving spirit deeply embedded in the natural world.

Mauri-ora is life-force. All animate and other forms of life such as plants and trees owe their continued existence and health to mauri. When the mauri is strong, fauna and flora flourish. When it is depleted and weak those forms of life become sickly and weak.

There is, however, a key difference between the Maori concept of mauri and the Christian concept of Christ as the life of all Creation. Mauri is mortal, the link between the physical body (tinana) and the spiritual essence (wairua). At the point of death the mauri leaves, releasing the wairua to return to the Atua. Where a river has been polluted its mauri is damaged, and when a creature becomes extinct its mauri dies.

This is strongly correlated with how the Bible describes life in terms of breath. The Hebrew Bible has three words for ‘breath’: nephesh is life-force, understood to be in the breath (as in Genesis 1:20), neshmah or nishmat is the physical breath (as in Genesis 2:7), and ruach is both spirit and breath (used hundreds of times in the Old Testament). In the New Testament the Greek word pneuma has a similar double meaning, primarily used for the Holy Spirit. Reaching into the complexity of Biblical Hebrew takes us closer to a Maori understanding of the vital interconnectedness of life, spirit, breath and body and breaks down the dichotomy between human and other living things.

Another way to understand mauri could be the metaphor of ‘voice’. A river ‘sings’ with its own unique voice. Jesus prophesied that the very rocks would cry out if the people were silent (Luke 19:40). The Psalms describe all of Creation giving voice to praise:Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who live in it.Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joyat the presence of the Lord (Psalm 98:7-9a, NRSV)

Each and every created thing has its own unique voice of praise to return to God its Creator. This has been the theme of many a poem, one of the most famous being St Francis’ Canticle of the Creatures. This is sung in the well-known hymn “All creatures of our God and King, lift up your voice and let us sing – O Praise Him.”

In Christian theology this is an expression of the ‘glory’ of God (e.g. Psalm 19:1). Within Luther’s writings is a theme of awe for the glory of God found in the natural world. He depicts God as being “with all creatures, flowing, and pouring into them, filling all things” and insisted that "the power of God...must be essentially present in all places even in the tiniest leaf." Six decades ago theologican Joseph Sittler invited a deeper vision of creation. He sought to express the “inner nature of things”, language to evoke “a sense of the grace of creation.” This demands a very different stance than triumphalist or rationalist theologies; it involves kneeling down on the earth before the lilies of the field in gentle contemplation, beholding them, withdrawing any claims driven by will-to-power, waiting and watching and wondering in abject spiritual poverty, to catch some sight of “the dearest freshness deep down things”.

To express the Christian sense of the divine presence within the fibre of Creation, the language of academic theology gives way to the language of poetry, and the contribution of artists. Included in this paper are photographic details of a painting done by a friend of mine, Lynn Ramage, sadly no longer with us. Her artist eye saw into the mauri of river, flax and bird and was able to express this for others to see using paint and colour.

Creation shares the joy of the people (e.g. Isaiah 55:12) but it also shares in the pain. Paul writes that “the whole creation has been groaning in labour pains” (Romans 8:22), and the Old Testament prophets often describe God’s judgement in terms of environmental destruction (Isaiah 42:14-15). An understanding of mauri in our own natural environment in Aotearoa holds together both the joy and beauty of the living things we treasure as well as the pain of degradation, pollution and loss.

(photo: tui painting)

Whakapapa: Whose we are

A Maori understanding of, and concern for, the natural world begins from a place of belonging through genealogy. Whakapapa literally means ‘layering’, and expresses the layers of relatedness in which connect a Maori person to whanau, home, land and to other living things.

Everything in the universe, inanimate and animate, has its own whakapapa, and all things are ultimately linked via the gods to Rangi and Papa. There is no distinction or break in this cosmogony, and hence in the whakapapa between supernatural and natural. Both are part of a unified whole. "The bond this creates between humans and the rest of the physical world is both immutable and unseverable" (Tomas 1994). Every Maori shares this descent from gods, godesses, guardians and superhumans. Furthermore, as Hohepa (1994) remarks, "these multi-god/ess guardians and responsibilities, these ties with humans who have the divine spark of descent from gods, are not compatible with … the Christian belief of an independent God who has no genealogical connection, and who exists in splendid isolation somewhere in heaven".

The criticism leveled in this statement quoted by Roberts et. al. that the Christian God is “independent”, existing “in splendid isolation”, is a harsh one, which would be refuted by all the ministers I know. The days are long gone of a ‘deist’ God who sets the world in motion and then withdraws like a disgruntled mechanic to leave us to it. Trinitarian theology emphasises the community of God overflowing in connection with Creation. The triune three-in-one makes space for the life of the universe in the loving interplay within the heart of God. Eco-theology fosters ways of thinking of and relating to God as passionately involved in the world. NZ minister Bob Eyles writes about the heart-level connection that he believes is an essential part of the Christian faith;

Few of us have the capacity to feel the pain of our planetary ecosystem – perhaps that is possible for God alone. We can begin to move in this direction, however, by starting with our family, our garden, our bush, our district..., by gradually learning to observe and appreciate its web of life, not from the outside as an observer, but from the inside, as a participant.

Whakapapa speaks of the interconnectedness between people and all elements of the tangible world. For Maori this spiritual bond finds little in common with a theology of dualism. In Christian history the natural world has tended to be seen in the same light as the physical human body. Anna Peterson acknowledges body-spirit dualism as a thread in the Christian religion, both historically and in the contemporary church: “ambivalence about the body and nature generally has remained a strong current in both popular and academic theologies.” Feminist theologians have led the church away from this ambivalence towards a more ‘embodied’ or ‘incarnational’ faith. They have pointed out that valuing ‘spirit’ over ‘body’ is inextricably linked to valuing men over women. Sallie McFague proposed that we should see the whole world as ‘the body of God’, and argued that humans are not just spirits who happen to be in bodies but ‘inspirited bodies’ within the larger body of creation. This has a strong resonance with a Maori understanding of whakapapa.

Byron Rangiwai describes the way in which whakapapa connects him through his ancestry to both land (whenua) and faith (whakapono). Through one grandparent he is Ringatu, through another he is Catholic, and through another he is Anglican. Identity, belonging and spirituality are found in “a network of interconnected and interdependent matrices that intersect.” I can relate to this sense of being born into a faith; I was part of the Methodist Hahi until I married into the Presbyterian Church. However, sociologists have pointed out that the 21st century has seen a break-down in the intergenerational transmission of denominational identity. My sons do not see themselves as Presbyterian, despite (or perhaps because of?) both their parents being ministers. Traditional institutions are ‘so last millenia’! Personal freedom is the gospel of our day, ‘be yourself’ the mantra. How will Maori young people value their cultural inheritance in a society dedicated to the worship of individual choice? The work of eco-mission has its own challenges; motivating the institutional church may require very different approaches than what is required to connect with younger generations.

Atuatanga: Spirituality

A Christian understanding of the universe begins with the twin claims that God is Creator and the universe is Creation. We love and care for the environment because God loves and cares for the magnificent world that he made and continues to sustain (despite human efforts to destroy!). Christian cosmology begins at the beginning with an act of creation ‘ex niliho’, out of nothing. As John proclaims in his Gospel prologue, “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being” (John 1:3, NRSV). The biblical emphasis on God as Creator is radically monotheistic. Nature is affirmed but not worshiped. Other ancient religions saw the sun or moon as divine beings, as well as local features such as mountains. The Bible celebrates natural things as created and in their own way giving worship to God. Humans, however, kept on turning away from God to give priority to other things that offered the illusion of success or control, home-made idols and the gods of empires. Idolatry is thoroughly condemned throughout scripture. Prophets and leaders called their people to find their identity in the God of covenant: “Choose whom you will serve” called Joshua (24:15). For ‘eco’ Christians, the moral imperative to act for the good of the planet comes from this commitment to serve God in our time and place.

Maori spirituality is pluralistic rather than monolithic. This makes Pakeha Christians uneasy. Is it OK to enter into a prayer which references Papatuanuku? If Maori and Pakeha are working in partnership on environmental projects, can we share karakia together? If so, is this a similar experience or are we just pretending to be on the same page? Can Pakeha relax and let go our need to understand and control?

First, let’s check our understandings of Maori cosmology, and then explore possible ways to relate to it from a Pakeha Christian point of view.

Maori spirituality also begins at the beginning with a creation narrative from which all else flows. Once the world was dark, locked in a close embrace between Ranginui (Sky Father) and Papatuanuku (Earth Mother). Their children had no room to move, and after much discussion and various attempts Tane managed to push his parents apart. The ‘first family’ included gods of the air and the winds, war, earthquake and forests. From these Atua descended all the elements of the universe, living things and forces of nature, people and demi-gods. Whakapapa connects Maori to all beings, both tangible and intangible.

For Maori, the world is alive with spiritual entities and personalities. These do not asked to be ‘worshiped’ as a Christian would understand this. The rituals of karakia and offerings of Maori kawa (ceremony) were about calming or satisfying the atua to keep things in balance. The purpose is to keep the world on an even keel by not upsetting anyone or causing offence. In Pakeha terms, this is more about ‘social protocols’ than ‘praise and adoration’. The goal is healthy mutual relationships in balance. The early missionaries did not find Maori words with which to translate the biblical words ‘worship’ or ‘glory’. For instance, in Exodus 9:1 God (through Moses) asks Pharoah to “Let my people go, so that they may worship me.” (NRSV). In Maori this becomes “Tukua taku iwi kia haere ki te mahi ki ahau.” ‘Worship’ is translated simply as ‘work’. The missionaries added the idea of ‘glory’ into the Maori language in the transliteration ‘kororia’ (e.g. John 1:14). Nga Atua in Maori cosmology were not worshiped and glorified. So, honouring them in an authentic Maori way is not idolatry.

When Maori encountered Christianity many recognised deep truth, and readily accepted ‘The God of the Bible’, together with Ihu Karaiti (Jesus Christ) and Wairua Tapu (Holy Spirit). Byron Rangiwai describes how Maori can honour both traditional and Christian spirituality. His research respondents do not experience Maori or Christian beliefs as being in conflict. They hold together faith in ‘Te Atua’ (singular) with respect for ‘nga Atua’ (plural). He summarises the position of one priest he interviewed who “understood nga Atua to be our first revelation of God. While he does not practise the old religion, he practises his Christian faith as Maori within a framework of Atuatanga—which is described by some as Maori theology and others as Maori spirituality.”

Rangiwai found the understanding among Maori Christian leaders that “God was always with Maori in the form of nga Atua, and that God was revealed again in Jesus with the arrival of Christianity to these shores.” This is the claim that Maori cosmology forms a body of revelation that pre-dates the coming of the Christian Gospel but whose author is the same God. In a sense, Atuatanga is the ‘prequel’ to the Bible, a third Testament. This revelation is fundamental to Maori culture. One thing is for sure in my mind – no one has the right to ask Maori people to reject their indigenous spirituality. Together with their land and language it is theirs by right of inheritance.

However, I find myself wondering how Maori Christians can simultaneously hold a faith in the triune God together with faith in a multiplicity of spiritual beings. Part of me says (or perhaps it is my father’s voice in my head) ‘Why can’t they just choose? Which is it? – pick one!’ Western culture has raised to a level of unassailable ‘obvious’ truth the value of individual freedom based on personal choice. The Christian church, especially evangelical streams, have instituted this at the very centre of what it means to be Christian. I remember as a teenager at a youth rally in the Wellington Town Hall singing “I have decided to follow Jesus.” The peek moment in the Christian life was seen to be this moment of decision. And yet, even as a 14-year-old I remember questioning this with my friend on the way home. How could it be a genuine personal choice when you are in a hall filled with several hundred young people all eager to fit in? I suspect that our cultural idea of personal choice and freedom is more myth than reality, as our choices are so powerfully influenced by social and economic forces in which we are subtly (or not so subtly) manipulated as consumers. A consumer mentality has crept mostly unopposed into our churches also. The dominant western culture worships personal choice; our bicultural commitment invites respect for the ways in which Maori hold a ‘both-and’ faith.

The question for me is around alliegiance. My Christian identity is oriented around the divine person of Jesus Christ. From the earliest times Christians affirmed that Jesus is Lord, and for me that means that he (together with Father and Spirit) is central to my life at every level. I am surrendered into God’s authority and purposes. As a Minister I am curious about every other priority that claims the attention of Christian people and shapes their values and decisions. I simply do not know how this is for Maori, whether they experience any points of tension in alliegance or authority between Christ and nga Atua.

I’ve always said that I am a committed monotheist. It helps me to acknowledge this is inherited (tuku iho) from my grandparents and my Methodist heritage, for whom God was God and earth was earth. I have come to learn that the Old and New Testaments of our holy scriptures includes a greater diversity of views of the singularity or plurality of God than many western Christians might realise. Despite an official conviction that there is only “one Lord, one faith … One God and Father of all” (Ephesians 4:5-6):• the plural first-person is used by God in Genesis 1:26: “Let us make humankind in our image”.• the plural ‘heavens’ in the very first verse of the Bible “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” (Gen 1:1). This has been variously interpretted, from referring to the stars in the sky, to a multiplicity in the spiritual dimension.• One of the more common names of God in the Old Testament is ‘Yahweh Sabbaot’, Lord of Hosts/Armies. These ‘angel armies’ are vividly depicted in the two dramatic Elisha war stories in 2 Kings 6 and 7 (where we find the phrase ‘chariots of fire’!).

For Maori, this all makes perfect sense. Of course the spiritual dimension is full of personalities and powers. The stark monotheism of my Methodist heritage simply ignored these suggestions of a complexity of spiritual beings, atheistic about angels, demons or taniwha. Perhaps it was the poorer for it.

Pakeha may find it easier to relate to Maori pluralistic spirituality in terms of metaphor. Maori cosmology holds an extraordinary narrative richness. Keith Newman describes how “when you enter into this realm you are faced with a complex interweaving of hierarchies, responsibilities, domains and influences that connect with the cycles of nature, the earth, the cosmos and the supernatural world”. Newman cautions Christians against delving far into this complexity, but affirms that “I remain open to the metaphoric, the symbolic, the tohutohutanga, or opening up of deep truths through unpacking types and shadows about times and seasons and purpose and destiny and even poetic personification of the wind, sea and elements.” I am comfortable with, and enriched by, relating at a spiritual level with Maori atua at the level of ‘poetic personification’.

Kaitiakitanga: Care-taking

Kaitiakitanga is central to our relationship with the natural environment. Kaitiakitanga means conservation and protecting as well as a more active idea of fostering.

It derives from three words: the prefix ‘kai’; the root word ‘tiaki’; and the suffix ‘tanga’, which all help to shape the meaning of this term. Tiaki in its basic sense means ‘to guard’ but also can mean, “to keep, to preserve, to conserve, to foster, to protect, to shelter, to keep watch over” (Marsden, 2003). Kai signifies the agent of the act, so a kaitiaki is understood to mean, “a guardian, keeper, preserver, conservator ... protector”. The suffix tanga “transforms the term to mean guardianship, preservation, conservation, fostering, protecting [and] sheltering”.”

It can be translated as ‘stewardship’, but it is different than the western understand of ‘resource management’. Roberts et.al. suggest that the closest we can get to defining a ‘Maori conservation ethic’ in western terms is “to describe it as one which is based on a kin-centric world view, i.e., in which humans and nature are not separate entities but related parts of a unified whole.”

Kaitiakitanga “weaves together ancestral, environmental and social threads of identity, purpose and practice.” It is different from ‘resource management’ because it cannot separate the material substance, function or utility of ‘resources’ in the environment from their spiritual value, identity and relationships. The primary purpose is to enhance the mauri of all that comes under its care. It works through the cumulated wisdom of many years and seasons, implemented through rahui (sanctions) and ritual, including karakia. These teach habits of respect for natural resources because of the spiritual forces within them, such as throwing back the first fish you catch as a gift to Tangaroa, or pausing for a brief prayer before cutting harakeke (flax) for weaving. Rahui is an important conservation tool, such as a ban imposed on food collection for a period of time to enable a resource to recover. Karakia links people with creation and “enables us to carry out our role … our part in bringing order into this universe.”

An important dimension through all this is the interplay of tapu and noa. These are not easy to translate into English; words like ‘sacred and profane’ miss the mark. Tapu and noa are a gut-level sense of whether something is ‘set apart’ or ‘open access’. Death creates tapu, eating creates noa. Tapu is like a fine mist that hushes voices and distills the light. Noa clears that away for everyday tasks of life. A Maori ‘conservation ethic’ holds all these together for the common good of earth and people.

How does this compare with a Christian conservation ethic? In Genesis 1:28 God blesses the first human beings and says to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth” (NRSV). How people have understood the word ‘dominion’ has had vast implications for human impact on the natural world. In 1967 Lynn White wrote an essay arguing that the idea of human dominion over creation led to the assumption that nature exists only to serve human needs. He accused Christianity of legitimating exploitation of the enviroment, and being partly to blame for the modern ecological crisis. Responses to White’s argument have sharpened Christian thinking about humanity’s role in relation to the planet.

Theologians such as Douglas John Hall re-defined ‘dominion’ in terms of ‘stewardship; creation “is entrusted to humanity, who are responsible for its safekeeping and tending.” Stewardship is a biblical concept, rooted in Genesis 2:15: “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it” (NRSV). The word ‘till’ is more about ‘serving’ than digging, according to Calvin DeWitt, in a mutual way a ‘con-serving’. The word ‘keep’ “conveys the idea of keeping the dynamic qualities of the thing being kept … a rich, full, and fulfilling ‘keeping’.” The word ‘steward’ is equivalent to Jesus speaking about ‘tenants’, ‘servants’ or ’slaves’ in his parables which emphasise human responsibility to God for caring for the land and the gifts they have been entrusted with (e.g. Matthew 25:14-30, Luke 20:9-19). Hall describes stewardship as “the vocation that God intended and intends for the human creature in the midst of God’s good creation.”

There is an intriguing difference between Christian and Maori understandings: in traditional Maori usage a kaitiaki is not necessarily a person at all, but can be an element of the natural world which holds a particular role as a local ‘guardian’. For instance, when an enormous 200kg sea turtle washed up on a beach in Banks Peninsular it was recognised by the local hapu as a kaitiaki of their tribal area. Te Papa national museum wanted the turtle for public display and scientific analysis. The hapu reclaimed it and buried it after full tangi and honour. This is not easy for Western science-based ecology to understand. Doesn’t the public have a right to view and study such a natural wonder? In this case the rangatiratanga of local Maori won the argument and were able to follow local kawa (protocols) in relation to something of great local significance. The honouring of non-human kaitiaki is an expression of the Maori value that while people have a role in caring for the natural world, far more important are the countless ways in which the natural world cares for the people.

Mahi Tahi: Partnership

Eco-theology is of its very nature also eco-praxis, faith in action. Likewise, Maori spirituality does not exist as a ‘thing’ in theory, but is known in the living of it, collectively more than privately. While people with a passion for ecology can work individually, the task of caring for Creation leads people to work collaboratively. Local groups take ownership of local projects, and as people experience success their goals get bigger, bringing community groups together into partnership. Partnership can be described in Maori as mahi tahi, working as one. In Christian theology this is a central characteristic of the Spirit of Christ, who forms people from different backgrounds, personalities and agendas into loving community (Galatians 3:28). The conflicts of history and philosophy fade when sitting together over tea and cake, or when sharing spades and getting hands in the earth.

Chanel Phillips researched a Maori environmental group in Otago, interviewing people who had participated in a tree-planting project. Many of her interviewees mentioned ‘community’ as a major feature of their experience; “The community identity is about people having a connection to place and developing a relationship to place.” It is a connection with other people as friendships grow, i.e. whakawhanaungatanga. Maori cultural practices of mihi, powhiri and poroporoaki provide a framework in which community happens, which she describes as “a respectful platform to meet one another on.” The manaakitanga (care of others) of sharing food together is an integral part of this process.

These principles of being community while caring for the environment are foundational to A Rocha’s vision for ‘eco church’ congregations. ‘Fellowship’ and relational care are ‘hard-wired’ into Christian mission, and most church projects include time for sitting down for a cuppa. In NZ, many non-Maori groups incorporate aspects of Maori tikanga as normal practice, such as taking care to welcome everyone at the beginning and thank and farewell everyone at the end. Where Pakeha process collides with Maori tikanga is around how much time is allocated to relational connecting. A Pakeha ‘functionalist’ approach plans a practical project such as tree-planting in order to take up as little time as possible to get the job done. Mihimihi and poroporoaki, however, take as long as they take; you open up the floor for everyone to introduce themselves (mihi) and later to share about how the experience was for them (pororporoaki). It takes time. Also, in Maori culture kai is shared, and should be provided in abundance. The Pakeha custom of BYO lunchbox is anathema.

A Rocha promotes the importance of partnerships between churches and other groups in local conservation initiatives. A Rocha Dunedin co-ordinator, Selwyn Yeoman’s experience is that “Conservation projects heal wounded places, restore ecological diversity and renew the song of creation. They provide amazing opportunities to connect with communities, involve families and share wisdom inter-generationally.” Phillips also writes of the value of partnership between Maori and non-Maori groups finding common vision and working together: “this community engagement is all part of whanaungatanga and building ‘positive’ relationships.” She attributes positive relationships between community groups to “good foundations of trust and confidence” right from the start of working together.

Kupu Whakamutunga: Conclusion

This conversation has been going on through the 5 decades of my life, mostly in the background but sometimes with insistent urgency. Other people have delved deeper, read more, and talked longer into the night than I have. Others are just beginning, hesitant and confused. Kei te pai. It’s OK. The conversation is not going away. Our nationhood in Aotearoa New Zealand is inescapably bound with each of these relationships: our relationships with each other, Maori and Pakeha and the rich diversity we are, and our relationship with the earth, this Land of the Long White Cloud, upon whom we are utterly dependent for our lives, our food and our homes, and whom we share with tui and piwakawaka, lizard and snail, fragile hidden grasses and mighty totara. We are also held in relationship with Te Atua, Creator, and the spiritual dimension that is also part of God’s Creation. May we grow closer in each of these relationships, in faith and aroha. May we work together in trust, effective partners in the urgent and vital task of protecting our land and all who call it home.

Ma te Atua tatou e manaaki.

www.conversations.net.nzWritten by Silvia Purdie Resources for life and faith